


Completed Half Life

by Lire_Casander



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 19:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville finds a hard time accepting that his life is not complete, until he sees the light at the end of the tunnel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Completed Half Life

_Lately, something here don't feel right_   
_This is just a half-life_   
_Is there really no escape?_   
_No escape from time_   
_Of any kind_   
**Half-Life ~ Duncan Sheik**   


The greenhouse is empty when he enters it, the first rays of sunlight ghosting through the windows. He has spent the night wandering alone through the fields, wondering about his life and the fate it is leading him to.

There are still no classes to teach, though the students will come to the castle at the end of the day, just like every other beginning of September. But he has a few hours left in his sanctuary, alone with his thoughts, accompanied only by the plants he has grown from the seeds until they reached their adulthood. _It's like the kids_ , he smiles to himself, the thought materializing in front of him as if it was made of magic and air. _You can see them growing up, knowing you have helped them all along to find out who they are and who they want to be_.

He sighs.

It is hard for him, teaching in a school full of healthy children. He thinks of Hannah, back in Hogsmeade, and asks his very soul how this could have possibly happened. When they married, they were happy, and everything was almost perfect – they only needed a word to reach that faultlessness they sought for decades. But that word never came, and now he is stuck in a greenhouse waiting for his students to remind him of what he will never have.

No one remembers his acts during the Second War these days. The students are only interested in knowing facts and tidbits about Ron Weasley's engagement to his lifelong fiancée, about Hermione Granger's search for the perfect wedding dress, about the health of Harry Potter's first born. He guesses he should be used to being in the shadows again – he was there once during his teen years, he can easily adjust to the familiar situation.

Yet he feels he is missing something.

He spreads his fingers on the overused table in the middle of the greenhouse, a reminder of Sprout's days. The old teacher retired about two years ago, and he took over the post McGonagall , _Minerva_ , offered. He allows a smile to crawl to his lips, a very weak attempt to show an emotion, _any_ emotion.

He fails miserably.

A small, single tear finds its way out of his eye, down his cheek, into the collar of the shirt he has forgotten to fasten with a tie for he is still on a holiday of sorts. Then it is there, the feeling he has been trying to conceal behind a well rehearsed façade of happiness and selflessness, spilling itself and threatening to drown him with its force. He cries like a child, clutching the edge of the table as though it is his lifeline, shoulders sagging and arms trembling, his whole body shaking with the strength of his sobs. He lets everything out of his system yet he doesn't feel empty once the tears stop coming from the depth of his heart.

A small, polite cough startles him. When he turns around, he sees the blond head of Teddy Lupin barely over the border of the table. "Teddy," he manages to choke out, his hand swiftly wiping the remnants of his previous fit. "What are you doing here?"

"Uncle Harry had to visit Professor McGonagall, and he told me to come with him and visit you too," the child explains. "She said you would be here. I'm... I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, Uncle."

"You will never bother me," Neville assures the kid, managing a smile – a true smile – and walking over his spot, completely ignoring the stab of pain in his hand when his fingers dart over a small splinter.

He thinks he deserves it.

"Have you enjoyed your summer, Teddy?" he asks, ruffling the child's hair.

"Very much, Uncle," Teddy answers. "I can't wait till I can come here to live!"

"You don't like living with your grandmother?" he wonders, his own childhood unfolding before his eyes.

"Oh, don't mistake me, Uncle," Teddy smiles. "Grams is great, but I think I'll like it here. I will see lots of you then!"

He chuckles at the faith he can hear in Teddy's voice. It has always been like this – Teddy is Harry's grandson, but he has always shared a special bond with his Uncle Neville. It is almost like having his own son.

Almost.

_"The Mediwizard said... Neville, the Mediwizard said I will not be able to... to get pregnant."_

The words ring in his ears, and he does not notice he is staring until Teddy points it out.

"Uncle Neville, are you alright? You are looking into space."

"I'm fine, son," he replies, the word rolling out of his tongue before he can think of its implications. "I was just remembering."

Teddy nods and hugs him before a noise can be heard at the back of the greenhouse, right where the second door is located. They both look up to see Harry Potter flanking a very nervous Hannah Longbottom, while Minerva McGonagall pats the shoulder of the bartender in a soothing movement. "Can we help you?" he asks in what he hopes sounds like his less emotional voice.

"Teddy, I think we should leave Uncle Neville and Aunt Hannah alone," Harry says, a small grin flickering on his lips. "Say goodbye."

"Goodbye, Uncle Neville," the kid obeys, hugging again his favourite uncle and walking over to Hannah. "Goodbye, Auntie. Will you come home for Christmas?"

"Oh, Teddy," Hannah chokes out. "Of course we will be dropping by your house for Christmas, but you can come to Hogsmeade whenever your grandmother and your godfather find suitable."

"Thanks, Auntie," the kid promptly says, taking the hand offered by Harry and walking outside the greenhouse. McGonagall pats Hannah's shoulder again and ushers her inside before turning around and leaving too, not before winking knowingly at Neville.

He is at a loss for words once they are alone.

"Neville, we have to talk."

"I know, Hannah, I know. I just... I don't know what to say. It has to be very difficult for you," he babbles, looking at his hands.

"It is difficult, Neville, but it's been going on for months now, and I have something to tell you."

"I never prevented you from talking to me," he retorts, looking up at his wife, who is now beaming at him. "What is it, Hannah?"

"Remember how the Mediwizard... what he said?" she asks timidly, her lower lip trembling slightly, but Neville cannot fathom whether it is from keeping the tears at bay or something less bitter.

He just nods

"He was wrong," she says simply, her hands twisting at the height of her lap, moving longingly over the clothes. "He was entirely wrong," she repeats, and he stares at her in awe.

"What do you mean, he was wrong?" he feels like asking, because this cannot be happening, this cannot be real.

"We are going to have a little Frank," Hannah announces with mirth shining in her beautiful eyes – how can he have forgotten how they shine under the perfect light? – and a flicker in them tells Neville this is not a joke.

"Or a little Alice," he supplies, walking over to his wife with his hands outstretched and a warm smile in his lips.

This is actually his life.


End file.
